


Working Late

by becauseISaidSo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, POV Hermione Granger, Pansmione - Freeform, corperate America, wall street au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseISaidSo/pseuds/becauseISaidSo
Summary: Last week, Hermione finally went to her first lesbian bar. This week, she’s being invited to the office of a very high powered CEO who’s legs never seem to end and who’s taste in whiskey is rivaled only by her own.Pansmione Wall Street AU





	Working Late

Hermione didn’t like admitting when she was nervous, but it was the first time that she would see Pansy since Friday and… well…

She clutched her stack of papers a little more firmly to her chest as the elevator doors opened. She had never been on the 56th floor before, in any building. Her own office was housed firmly on the 3rd floor, her window had a view of a pizza parlor and a barber shop. The 56th floor, however.... The sun was setting, casting amazing dark shadows over Brooklyn, the bridge seemed to glisten with an almost eerie light. She blinked a few times. The sight was startlingly beautiful, and oddly calming. She straightened her skirt, clapped the stack of papers firmly in her arms and turned from the window towards Pansy’s office.

She was told that Pansy- Ms. Parkinson, that was, was finishing up a call and to have a seat. She fiddled with the corner of her portfolio, running the edge under her nail. She was perched on the edge of the seat, one knee bouncing without realizing it. Her nerves were back, and there was no startling view to take them away. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

You got this Granger.

“Ms. Granger?” Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she stood, stumbling a little in the heals she had never quite gotten used to wearing. “You can go in,” the woman nodded towards the large oak doors and Hermione felt her heart rate double. She smiled feebly at the woman, took a deep breath and entered the office.

The view was more stunning than Brooklyn had been.

This side of the building faced New Jersey but there was the Statue of Liberty, the sun set falling behind the mass expanse of metropolitan was shining off of her making her look almost blue in the light. The water glistened too, streaks of orange reflected from the sky. Hermione blinked, taking a few steps into the room. The office was lined with shelves, most looked like extremely fancy filing cabinets, though some were book shelves filled with heavy leather bound books that Hermione itched to take down, there was a wardrobe on one side and on the other a set of drinking glasses complete with three decanters of what looked like very expensive bourbon. In the middle of the room was a very large old oak desk, a wide screen monitor on one side and a stack of papers on the other.

Behind the desk sat Pansy. Hermione felt her heart quicken slightly as their eyes might, Pansy’s mouth turning up slightly. She stood as Hermione walked forward, her eyes twinkling.

“Well hello again,”

Hermione swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, but now that she was here, now that the time had come, she felt better, calmer, more in control. She extended her hand to Pansy, “Ms. Parkinson,” she said, as courteous as ever, “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me,”

Pansy’s mouth twitched but she took her hand and shook it all the same, “My pleasure. Please, sit,” she gestured to the chair in front of the large desk, sitting herself in the large leather chair behind it. Hermione noticed a slight run in the thigh of her stockings but drew her eyes away quickly, pushing all thoughts of Pansy’s thighs out of her mind.

All in all, the pitch went well. Pansy listened, asking questions here and there. Hermione felt pleased that she had answers to most of them, and that the ones she didn’t weren’t ‘make it or break it’ decisions. By the time she had finished her pitch, various papers covered in charts and timelines and graphs strewn across Pansy’s desk, the sun had fully set and the lights had turned on under Lady Liberty, illuminating her with a false yellow light that reminded Hermione of every romantic comedy she and Ginny had watched when they’d been in school.

Pansy stood, pressing a button on the telephone on her desk and walking over to the tray holding glasses and bourbon.

“Yes?” A voice piped through the phone - the assistant who had let Hermione in.

“Marietta, have Blaise draw up a standard four year sponsorship for Ms. Granger and get it to her office by,” she looked at Hermione, considering something, “by tomorrow midday,”

“Sure thing, any signing bonus?”

Hermione felt her face get hot and she dropped Pansy’s gaze, landing instead on the phone.

“Let’s do ten,” said Pansy, “let her push us up to fifteen.”

Hermione looked quickly back at Pansy, but she wasn’t looking at her, instead pouring two healthy sized glasses of the dark amber liquid.

“Got it, anything else you need?”

“Vegetable fried rice and kung pow chicken from that place on Stone street. Oh! And an order of spring rolls,” she glanced at Hermione and winked, “don’t bother waiting around for the food either, Marietta, get yourself home.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Marietta and the line went dead.

Pansy picked up the two glasses and carried them over to where Hermione still stood. She handed her a glass, offering her own in way of toast.

“To new adventures,” she said, her eyes were sparkling and she was suddenly standing very close to her.

“To new adventures,” echoed Hermione and she was surprised to find her own voice low and calm, nothing like her beating heart and sweaty palms. Pansy grinned at her as they clinked glasses, drinking deeply from her glass. Hermione took a swallow from her own and was delighted to find that it was whiskey, not bourbon. It was high quality, going down smooth and a little spicy. It reminded her of the summer she, Ron, and Harry had spent in the woods of Vermont, smoking hookah and pushing each other into freezing streams.

Pansy sighed, stopping just short of smacking her lips and sat down in the chair next to Hermione’s, motioning her to sit too.

She did, suddenly overly aware of what she was doing with her hands, folding them in her lap one moment, to tracing the plush arm rest of the chair the next, she settled with both hands on her glass, as if it were a lifeline keeping her afloat.

“So,” she said, when she realized Pansy wasn’t going to say anything else, “you’re sure about working with me?”

Pansy made a sound through her nose that could have been a laugh, “Yes, Granger,” she was pacifying, “I’m most certainly sure,” her crossed leg reach out, touching Hermione’s shin reassuringly.

Hermione noticed again, the run in her stockings, her eyes instinctively following it up until it disappeared into Pansy’s skirt.

“Let’s not talk about work though, we’ve been doing that all day,” Pansy eyed her with a curiosity and the sparkle was back in her eyes, “how long have been going to Cubbyhole?”

Hermione blinked, “That was my first time,” she said, feeling her face get hot. She didn’t have a problem not talking about work, but talking about where they met…

Pansy’s eyes danced as she smiled at her, “Oh?”

Hermione nodded.

“You seemed… comfortable there.”

“I was.”

“And here?”

“I will be,” to illustrate this, Hermione drained her glass in two swallows and licked her lips pointedly, sitting the glass down on top of her portfolio, still sitting on the desk, not breaking eye contact with Pansy.

“How has no firm grabbed you yet?” she asked, taking a healthy sip from her own glass and raising her eyebrows in question. Hermione tried not to notice how her hair fell across her face and neck, barely tickling her shoulders.

“I don’t want to sell out to profit obsessed evil corporations,” she said as cooly as she could manage, “and I thought you didn’t want to talk about work.” It was a tease, Pansy’s eyes crinkling in acknowledgement.

“Profit obsessed evil corporations,” she echoed, grinning at Hermione over her glass, “And what do you think Parkinson and Chang is?”

Hermione considered, shifting in her chair so more of her body faced Pansy, “Corporation, yes; profit obsessed, yes; evil,” she grinned at Pansy, who’s eyes sparkled back, “jury's still out.”

Pansy laughed and drained her glass, “Well, I guess I have some work to do then.” She got up, grabbing the decanter of whiskey and bringing it over to the chairs, filling their glasses again.

They talked for hours, through the food - Hermione was still bewildered Pansy had remembered her Chinese order - and a few more healthy servings of whiskey. The sky was dark save for the glow of the city lights on the clouds.

Hermione was staring out the window, Pansy having stepped outside to relieve herself, thinking about this insane evening. She’d been enamored with Pansy when they’d met before and then the small lingering kiss she’d gotten had stayed with her for days, her bottom lip becoming numb every time she remembered it, but this was nothing like what she had expected.

Pansy came back in carrying a jug of water, “here,” she filled Hermione’s glass and handed it to her, pulling her seat close to Hermione’s, their knees zippered together. “Drink it,” she said, and then started to chuckle as Hermione took the glass with both hands, over exaggerating the gesture.

She stuck her tongue out at the black haired women who only laughed harder.

“Drink,” she said again, fixing Hermione with a soft stare that made her lower stomach clench and her heart skip a beat even with the humor between them.

She drank.

“Pansy?”

“Yes, Granger?”

“How often do you go to the Cubbyhole?”

Pansy chuckled, “Every week.”

Hermione hummed and drained her water glass, it was helping declutter her mind already, she could tell.

“Sorry for drinking all your whiskey,” she said, nodding to the decanter, now with only an inch left at the bottom.

Pansy laughed, “sorry for not warning you of the proof.”

They grinned together for a moment.

On impulse, Hermione reached out, gently taking hold of Pansy’s forearm, “hey, you didn’t want to hear my pitch, did you?”

The idea had been bouncing around the back of her head for a little while but she was still surprised to hear herself say it out loud. Pansy cocked her head at her, making a noncommittal noise for her to continue.

“It’s okay,” she said, and it was, “I wanted to see you again too.”

She met Pansy’s eyes in a moment of pure bravery and smiled, her heart was set to beat right out of her chest, she would never have said that without the whiskey. Not that she was drunk, per say, but she wasn’t sober either... Pansy’s mouth was slightly open, her eyes soft, expression blank.

“Yeah,” she said, the idea growing firmer as it settled in her mind, “I did want to see you again, a lot,”

“Granger,” Pansy’s voice was soft and suddenly sounded like the most beautiful thing in the world.

“What?”

“Granger, you’re drunk,”

“No, actually I’m not.” Her voice was firm, the heat gone. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Granger,”

Pansy’s face was stoney and Hermione could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, this was a mistake, “‘’m sorry,” she pushed the chair back, rising to her feet and beginning to gather her papers still strewn across Pansy’s- Parkinson’s desk.

Pansy stood, one of her hands reaching out and grabbing Hermione’s wrist to stop her, “Granger, wait,”

“Let go of me!” She jerked her wrist free. She felt hurt and embarrassed and now a wave of disgust - at herself or a Pansy, she couldn’t be sure - was overtaking her.

“Granger,” Pansy took a step forward and in one quick moment had grabbed both of Hermione hands, turning her, and jerking her to her.

Hermione stumbled, letting out a cry, but before she could be anything other than surprised, Pansy had let go of her wrists, cupped her head in her hands and was kissing her.

Hermione pulled away, taking a step back and slapped Pansy across the face.

It was instinct. She was hurt and embarrassed and sure she’d ruined something good and now this fucking woman was kissing her! As if she had the right to!

Pansy didn’t make a noise besides a small gasp. Hermione stood there, breathing hard, watching her. It felt like a line had been crossed that hadn’t been before, as if this - whatever it was - had ceased being anything close to a “casual encounter”.

Pansy cricked her neck, shaking her head and rubbing her jaw. She didn’t say anything but turned slowly to look at Hermione. Her eyes were still sparkling.

Hermione felt something jolt in her lower stomach, her guts clenching and unclenching in anticipation. What was she doing? Coming on to a high power executive after pitching her the companies line? Getting drunk with her! Slapping her! She was frozen, staring at Pansy, a knot forming in her gut. What now?

Pansy lifted her head slowly, the long expanse of neck gleaming off the low light fluorescents filling the room. Her eyes roamed Hermione, from the heals - why had she worn heels - to the pencil skirt, Ginny’s borrowed blouse, Luna’s necklace for a pop of color, and then to her face. She watched as Pansy’s eyes outlined her jaw, the curve of her nose, her cheeks.

Their eyes met, and Hermione realized she was calmer. The knot of anticipation was still there, but it was manageable. She knew - though she had no idea how she knew - that it would be okay.

Pansy took a step forward, closing the gap between them once more, one hand twining around her waist, the other threading through the hairs at the back of her neck, holding her head, and pressed her whole body into Hermione making her shudder, a noise - something between a whine and a moan - escaping her.

Pansy’s mouth went to her ear, “is that really what you wanted to do to me?” The words were barely a whisper, but the heat in her voice was unmistakable.

Hermione cowed, trembling in Pansy’s arms, wanting to reach out yet scared to, “n-no-o,” her voice shook like her body, the aftershock of adrenaline washing over her.

Pansy’s breath was on her ear, she could feel the other woman smiling against her cheek and slowly her hands came up, one resting at the small of Pansy’s back, the other burying in the short black hair. She pulled the other woman to her.

And then Pansy’s lips were on hers, a frantic want and need to taste, to consume, over powering them both. She tasted like chicken and fried rice and whiskey and the one cigarette they’d shared together in the bathroom. She no longer knew where she ended and Pansy began, they were pressed so closely together. She slid her hands down Pansy’s back, making soft mewling noises as Pansy drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it softly, and rested her hands, almost dangerously, just below the waistline of her skirt. She could feel Pansy’s grin, the frantic beating of her heart echoed in the other woman, wanting yet questioning, pushing yet restraining.

Pansy reached behind her and once again grasped Hermione’s wrists, pulling them up and over her head as she walked them backwards towards the wall, Pansy pushing Hermione firmly against the door of the wardrobe, bringing her hands above her head and kissing her hard, soundly, expertly.

Hermione wasn’t aware of the noises she was making, she wasn’t aware of much, actually, all she knew is that Pansy’s hands were on her, all over her, pressing and pinching and squeezing and grabbing. Her mouth opened for the dark haired woman, crying out as she kissed her, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.

Pansy’s hands found the buttons of Hermione’s blouse and began undoing them expertly, she looked at her through her curtain of hair, eyes bright and alive and hungry. “Is this okay?” it was barely a whisper and Hermione could see the resolution in Pansy’s eyes freeze, waiting, her whole body tense.

Hermione couldn’t look away, the intensity of that gaze was all consuming. Weakly she nodded, “Y-yeah,” she breathed, and Pansy grinned, the fever that had paused, at full force again as she lowered her mouth, first to Hermione’s collarbone and then lower to her newly exposed tits. She thanked whatever it had been that had made her put on a cute bra that morning, rested her hand lightly on Pansy’s head and let out a cry as the woman pulled back the bra and brought her nipple into her mouth.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she realized she was chanting but couldn’t seem to stop. Pansy was doing things with her tongue that she had never experienced before, it was gentle yet firm and as she flicked the tip of her tongue over her nipple one last time, Hermione grabbed her head pulling her into a fresh wave of kisses. The wet stickiness caught on her blouse, irritating it, but she didn’t care. Her legs were trembling and all she wanted to do was taste every inch of Pansy.

She grinned into her kiss and quickly and expertly hiked up Hermione’s skirt so it pooled with her blouse around her middle. She broke the kiss, leaving a trail to her ear and sinking her teeth in the soft skin beneath it. Hermione gave a shuddering gasp that seemed to make the room ring.

Pansy hummed in her ear, hands on her thighs, her own thigh pressed firmly between Hermione’s legs, “Have you ever fucked a woman before?”

Pansy’s voice was low, almost a growl, and it made Hermione’s toes curl and her legs threaten to give way. She shook her head, unable to make desernable noises outside of a kind of gaspy moan.

“Would you like to?” Something uncoiled in her chest as she nodded, god, she was on fire.

Pansy pulled at her, pulling her off the wardrobe, mouth still at her throat, a guiding hand on the small of her back.

They stumbled to the desk, Pansy shoving papers every which way in a gesture reminiscent of every movie scene ever, but Hermione didn’t care, she let Pansy push her up onto the desk, her legs going around the other woman, latching on to her with a vice.

Pansy was all over her, her mouth going from tits to neck to mouth and back to tits. Hermione grabbed her face, calming her, “hey,” she breathed, kissing her deliberately slow.

Pansy’s hands planted firmly on the desk on either side of her and the dark haired woman leaned into her, pressing their bodies together. “Hey,” she said, her eyes lidded and dark and full of lust.

She had difficulty holding that gaze, her eyes travelling down Pansy’s flushed neck, her collar bones sticking through her shirt with surprising angles, her tits...

She reached out, without thinking about it, and touched her breast, guliding a thumb over the silk of her blouse searching for a nipple. She leaned forward into Pansy, her face in the dark haired woman’s neck, kissing the tender skin there, grinning slightly at the small intake of breath she made, hands going fully to Pansy’s sides, pulling her blouse up and out of her skirt, russling it up up over her head and tossing it in a corner.

She ran her hands along Pansy’s ribs, skimming her thumbs under her bra. Pansy’s breath was in her ear and she was leaning heavily into Hermione. She smelled of lavender and Dove deodorant and a sharp tang of something like sex. She buried her nose in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, her hands curling around her to undo her bra.

“Granger,” Pansy whispered as her tits came free, seeming to bounce right into her waiting hands.

Hermione hummed in response, holding Pansy’s tits, rolling her nipple between her fingers. Pansy let out a slight gasp and Hermione grinned, she liked that sound.

“Granger,”

“Mmm?” Hermione ducked her head, kissing Pansy’s collarbone and down. Her tits were small, smaller than her own, but perky and firm and perfect. She ran her tongue around one of the dark areola experimentally.

Pansy gasped and seemed to melt into her. “Granger,” her voice was that husky growl again, “do you want me to fuck you? Because I swear to god if I have to look at you on my desk with your tits out, doing that to me and not fuck you then I might just lose it,”

Hermione chuckled, pulling Pansy’s nipple into her mouth and sucking, slow and hard. Pansy shuddered against her, a small moan escaping her. “Granger,” this time it was a whine, a sound of longing and desire that made Hermione’s toes curl and her hips buck up, closer to Pansy.

She let go of her nipple, pulling Pansy down and kissing her long and slow, her tongue dipping lazily into her mouth. Pansy let out a small moan as she deepened the kiss, teeth scraping her lips.

“Granger,” she breathed, “please,” it was a sound of desperation, of complete deferral. Hermione knew she could say ‘no’ and Pansy would apologize and let her dress and call her a cab home. She knew if she said ‘no’ Pansy wouldn’t hold it against her, wouldn’t blackmail her or try to embarrass her. She knew she could say ‘no’ and be okay. But she didn’t want to say ‘no’. She wanted to be fucked, with sweat and saliva and sloppy kisses, right there on the old wooden desk. She wanted to feel alive and numb and not be able to walk properly the next day. She wanted all of it. And she wanted Pansy to give it to her.

She pulled back from the kiss, looking at Pansy and smiled slightly at the sight. Pansy’s eyes were lidded, dark with lust, her very essence seemed to tremble behind the question waiting to be answered. She was panting, lips puffed slightly and moist, her hair no longer immaculate, but mussed, a piece in the back forming a curly q loop. She looked beautiful.

Hermione licked her lips, “I want you to fuck me, Parkinson.”

And then Pansy’s lips were on hers and her hand was between Hermione's legs and she was squeezing her tits and gripping her ass and it was all Hermione could do to hold on.

Her heels flew off, forgotten and then Pansy was russetting down her stockings and panties in one and the wood beneath her suddenly felt cold and she shivered and giggled and Pansy kissed her, looking at her with those dark lidded eyes, holding her gaze as she gently drew one finger down the middle of her slit.

She shuddered in response and Pansy smiled when met with a generous pool of wetness at the bottom. She gathered some on her finger and then brought the finger slowly, luxuriously to her mouth, sucking it, eyes closing to relish the taste.

Hermione’s heart was fit to burst. This woman!! She stared at Pansy as the black haired woman finished the careful cleaning of her fingers and met Hermione’s eyes.

She grabbed her, pulling Pansy’s face down to meet hers, wanting to taste all of her, every part of her. The dark haired woman shifted and her hands stroked the inside of her thigh, not quite reaching home but close… Hermione whined at the tease, bucking up into her. Pansy grinned into the kiss and broke it, hands going around her waist as she sucked and kissed and nipped and whatever else down Hermione’s jaw, her neck, her chest. She sucked on her nipples shortly, making Hermione gasp, and the offended parts rise into stiff peaks. She didn’t remember having lost her bra… Pansy kissed lower, hands holding her sides firmly as she kissed down her side towards her hip.

Hermione’s breath was short, elbows resting on the desk beneath her, staring down at her. As if on cue Pansy’s eyes snapped open, looking up at her. There was nothing else in the world besides Pansy’s eyes, her mouth opened and she sucked gently on the soft skin right at the innermost part of her thigh. Hermione let out a sound that could have been a whine or a cry or a moan, mouth open, hips bucking, she wanted it. She wanted it so bad, holy fuck. She could feel Pansy grin against her and she lifted her head, ghosting her breath over her cunt and kissing the same spot on Hermione’s other thigh.

She was whimpering, (highly undignified, Granger), hands clenching and unclenching into fists, “f-f-u-u-u-ck,” she breathed. Pansy’s eyes still hadn’t left hers.

Slowly, she let go of Hermione’s arse, lips still on her tender skin, and started pulling back her hair into a rough half ponytail. Her hands came back to Hermione’s thighs, gripping the sides of her arse tightly and she broke away, licking her lips.

“Tell me what you want, Granger,” her voice was that low husk, a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine.

She was trembling, anticipation was killing her. “Please,” she whispered.

Pansy grinned, “Please what?”

She was playing with her and she knew it and still Hermione didn’t care, she wanted it so bad, she wanted Pansy so bad. Jesus fuck what was happening to her, “Please,” she breathed, “Pansy, please fuck me.”

Pansy lowered her mouth pressing a gentle kiss to her bushy mound, just above her clit making her twitch and whine, she grinned once more at Hermione and then lowered her eyes and sank her mouth into her cunt.

Hermione let out a strangled gasp as Pansy slid her tongue up and around her clit. Her hands were on her arse, holding her in place and Hermione slowly lifted her legs over Pansy’s shoulders as she wrapped her lips around her clit, sucking lightly.

Hermione lost track of what was happening, her head was thrown back, noises escaping her in some way or another, hips rocking ever so slightly into Pansy’s mouth as she slid her tongue in and around her cunt. She was shuddering, built up anticipation making her even closer than she would have expected.

Pansy was using every tool in her tool kit, lips, tongue, teeth, things she’d never felt or had even thought of feeling were happening to her and she let out a cry that seemed to reverberate throughout the whole building when Pansy, slowly and deliberately, slid a finger inside of her.

Her head jerked up, mouth open, staring down at Pansy whose tongue was still pressing hard into her clit. Their eyes met and Pansy’s eyebrows went up, questioning. Hermione nodded, rocking her hips into Pansy and she began to thrust.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” she wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or a curse but there wasn’t anything else to say. Pansy slowly lifted her head, her thumb resuming the pressure on Hermione’s clit, pumping at a steady pace that made Hermione grit her teeth and moan, loud and long. She wanted more.

Pansy seemed to sense her, to be able to know what she needed and she stood up from her crouched position, and slid a second finger into her. Hermione gave another shuddering gasp and then she was the one fucking Pansy. She was setting the pace, her hands firmly on the table for stability, rocking, crashing into Pansy’s hand, again and again and again.

Pansy’s mouth was open, her eyes lidded, dark - but Hermione didn’t care, she needed- just a little- On impulse she reached out, grabbing Pansy around the neck and pulling her into a fevered, hungry kiss.

She got the memo and all but climbed on top of her, her fingers still thrusting into her, her thumb dancing circles around her clit. Hermione moaned at the contact, into Pansy’s mouth (were they kissing, or were they just licking each other?). She gasped and cried out again and again and then Pansy’s mouth was on her neck, her free hand wrapped around Hermione’s back and she sucked Hermione’s ear lob, slow and hard.

Hermione came in three long shuddering cries, cracked and broken, that made Pansy make a noise - almost like a growl - low in her throat. Her elbows had left the table, hands around Pansy, nails gripping into her hard. She felt her cunt pulse - how many times was it? Eight? - and then she relaxed, letting out a sigh as she melted into Pansy and the desk beneath her, all strength gone.

Pansy lowered her down onto the desk and slowly removed her fingers. “Fuck, Granger,”

Hermione turned to see Pansy examining her fingers, they were smeared with cum, clear with that tinge of white, covering her fingers, stretching between them as she flayed them. She looked down at Hermione, panting and quiet, still trembling a little from the aftershocks, “fuck you’re beautiful,” and she leaned down, cum smeared hand forgotten and kissed her slow and long and deep, her body pressing into Hermione’s.

They lay there on the desk, kissing, arms curled around each other for a while as Hermione slowly started to come out of her post orgasm daze. She breathed deeply, nuzzling Pansy’s head up and kissing her jaw and then her neck. Pansy gave a low sound halfway between a hum and a moan and her arms went around Hermione rolling her on top of her.

Hermione planted her hands on either side of Pansy’s head and looked down at her, grinning. Pansy’s hair was splayed out around her head, her makeshift ponytail barely holding on, completely mussed. Her face was flushed, color high in her cheekbones, her eyes, green and sparkling, were lidded and staring at Hermione with what could only be appreciation.

“Well then,” she said, her voice raspy and dry, “how’re you doing, Granger?”

Hermione grinned a little stupidly down at her, “grrreat,” she rolled her r dramatically making Pansy snort with laughter.

Pansy’s hands were on her sides and they slid down to her hips, her ass, her cool hands on her ass cheeks felt nice and she shivered, still grinning down at her.

“Got a splinter in your ass?” Pansy asked, grinning as she squeezed her cheeks.

Hermione squealed a little, “I don’t think so, but I’m fully prepared to blame you if I do.”

“You’re more than welcome to blame me for it,” Pansy bit her lip and kind of bucked her head forwards towards Hermione, “come ‘ere.”

Hermione sank down onto Pansy, hands curling in her mess of hair, kissing her soundly, slowly, firmly.

One of Pansy’s hands roamed up, pressing into the small of her back, holding her to her. The wood was hard on her knees and she shifted, not wanting to stop kissing her. Pansy’s hands tightened around her, “I gotchyou,” she mumbled into the kiss. It was such a soft, sweet noise it made Hermione all but collapse on top of her.

Pansy’s chest shook in silent laughter, her lips pressing into Hermione's cheek, “Granger, lets uh,” she tried to roll and Hermione unceremoniously clambered off her, standing, a little weak kneed, next to the desk.

“Did I hurt you?”

Pansy sat up and shook her head, then she looked at Hermione, “fuck,” she said, under her breath and she felt herself blushing.

Pansy didn’t take her eyes off of her as she hopped down and went to her, cupping her head and kissing her again long and full.

Pansy broke the kiss, holding her face for a long moment before raising Hermione's hand to her mouth, kissing her knuckles and taking a step back. The expression on her face had changed.

Hermione stared at her, confused, not really knowing what was happening. She took a hesitant step towards Pansy who matched it with her own step away, holding out her hands as if to block her.

“You okay?” She was amazed at how calm her voice was considering that a small ball of anxiety that was growing in her belly. What-

“Yeah, um,” Pansy seemed at a loss for words which was so startling in and of itself that it made the knot in her belly lessen slightly, “um, you- I-“

She looked at Hermione, eyes wide as if pleading for help, Hermione just stared back, her brow furrowed, mouth open in bewilderment.

“We-“ she gestured to the desk, their clothes strewn around the room and then at Hermione standing barefoot, naked except for her skirt still puddled around her waist, Luna’s necklace nestling between her breasts, her hair surely crazy and flying in a million directions. Hermione crossed her arms in a failed attempt to cover herself.

Pansy’s crazed awestruck eyes met hers again and she let forth a burst of laughter that made Hermione jump and the knot in her stomach dissipate without further comment.

Pansy was clutching her hair, laughing, trying to speak but only a word here or there could be understood, “we!... fucking!.... here!.... you!”

She looked at Hermione and went to her grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her a little, “i just fucked you on my work desk!” She all but shouted and then sank into uncontrollable giggles.

Hermione was starting to chuckle too, Pansy’s frenzy explained she nodded, trying to keep the bubble of hilarity forming in her own chest in check, “yes, yes you did. You were good at it too,”

This set Pansy off again and she gripped onto Hermione, her whole body smashing into her that she lowered them both to the ground. Pansy in the fetal position, laughing like a maniac, and Hermione next to her, one hand on her shoulder, trying not to lose it herself.

“I- I- I’ve never,” she was gasping, “I’ve never- never done something like that- before.”

She looked up at Hermione who was grinning at her, “me neither.”

Pansy shifted so her head was in her lap, still giggling, “you- you mean- you don’t- fuck CEOs,” this was interrupted by its own spout of giggling and laughter, “in- in their offices- e- every Wednesday?”

Hermione was laughing now too, “n-no I usually- prefer- Thursdays,”

And then they were both off, Pansy rolling away from her on the floor, cackling, Hermione losing herself and crawling over to Pansy, “you- you’re messing with my rhythm!”

Pansy rolled and pulled Hermione down to her, kissing her clumsily. She gripped Pansy’s hair as they laid beside each other, alternating laughing and kissing and laughing.

It was a little while before they quieted, but when they did Hermione was tucked under Pansy’s arm, her head on one boob, legs twined together like some multi toned sea creature.

“Your toe nails are painted.”

Pansy flexed one of her feet and shrugged, making Hermione’s head bounce ever so slightly, “I like taking care of myself,”

“Oh,” Hermione turned into her, chin resting on her boob the better to look at her, “and how else do you take care of yourself?”

“Well,” she moved, rolling Hermione so she was on top of her, residual giggles filling the moment, “I bathe every day.”

“Mmmhm,” Hermione was listening, but she was overly distracted by the soft skin at the base of Pansy’s neck, she bent her head kissing it gently.

Pansy turned, allowing her greater access, “I also brush my teeth twice a day.”

Her hands were cool and welcome on Hermione’s back and she opened her mouth, sucking lightly on Pansy’s skin, just above her clavicle.

“I also…” she sighed at Hermione’s touch and the pressure on her back increased slightly, “shave regularly and-,” her voice hitched and broke as Hermione dug teeth into her.

Hermione grinned and increased the pressure she was sucking, making Pansy buck slightly, her hands clamping around her, “G-granger,” the growl was back in her voice and it made Hermione detach and sit up a little, looking at her, grinning.

“Yes?”

Pansy’s eyes were lidded but she shook her head at her, “you’re going to fucking kill me aren’t you?”

Hermione grinned and lowered her mouth again to Pansy’s clavicle, this time traveling lower, moving slowly, but leaving a trail of wet red marks. “That’s not the goal,” she said into her skin, one hand travelling down Pansy’s side to rest at her hip, a good leverage point.

Pansy growled again, “well, you’re succeeding,” her voice was distant and her breath was loud, in time with Hermione’s kisses. She gripped Pansy’s hip firmly and reached her tit, tongue experimentally flicking her nipple.

Pansy let out a satisfying gasp, head rolling to look down at her, “just be gentle with them,” it wasn’t a warning, but information, an invitation. Hermione grinned and lowered her lips around the stiff peak, sucking lightly. Pansy let out a sigh that sent a shiver through her body, her eyes fluttered closed, “ohhh, that’s nice.” A ripple of happiness went through Hermione and she kept sucking, her tongue circling her areola.

Pansy started squirming, Hermione looked up at her, her mouth was open and her eyes were dark, “Granger,” it was a whine, a growl, something, it made Hermione want to hear it again, she wanted Pansy to make so many more noises.

She let her nipple go with a pop that made Pansy gasp and squirm again and grinned down at her, “Yes?”

Pansy didn’t seem to have any words, she just looked at Hermione, “where did you come from?”

Hermione grinned, lowering her mouth to Pansy’s chest again, “I’m the girl you fucked on your work desk half an hour ago,” she said kissing between Pansy’s ribs.

She laughed, a hand threading through her hair in astonishment, “I know,” she grinned down at Hermione, breath still coming short, “It was fun,”

Hermione grinned up at her, “yeah.” she looked down. Pansy was still wearing her skirt and stockings, the run in them seemed to have expanded, her pale skin shining through. She propped herself up on her elbows, “Why are you still wearing these?” She ran her fingers under the band of the skirt, looking for the zipper. Pansy’s hand gently wrapped around her wrist, stopping her, Hermione looked up, “what?”

Pansy propped herself up on her elbows, “I’m all good, you don’t have to do anything,” her eyes were soft.

Hermione studied her for a second, “do I look like the kind of person that would ever do something I didn’t want to do?”

Pansy chuckled a little and let go of her wrist, “you went to school didn’t you?” she was teasing her, Hermione grinned in response.

“I actually liked school,” she said, winking and bent down to the zipper again.

“Oh, of course you did,” Pansy sighed and flopped back on her back. Hermione realized Pansy’s thighs were clenching and unclenching in a way reminiscent to her own anticipatory reactions not that long before, a pool of happiness but also anticipation settled in her belly.

She slowly undid the zipper, and hooked her hands under the waistband of both skirt and tights. She looked up at Pansy.

Pansy had propped her head up on her folded hands and was looking down at her with an expression close to smugness.

She raised her eyebrows at her, “Can I?” she nodded at the offending clothing.

Pansy’s expression softened a little, “please.” The word was low and full of heat and her eyes were sparkling again, making Hermione grin wider.

She shimmied Pansy’s bottoms off and ran a hand over her newly exposed stretch of belly, looking, with fascinating, at Pansy’s pussy.

It was brown, like hers, though the folds lined up a little more neatly than her own. Her hair grew in the same pattern but Pansy shaved, there was the equivalent of five o'clock shadow coming in near her thighs. She ran her thumb up the side, feeling the prickle of hair.

Pansy let out a low whine and her hips squirmed slightly under her touch. She lifted her eyes up to Pansy’s face, “yes?”

Pansy was staring at her, eyes dark, mouth open, cheeks flushed, she shook her head slightly, “I like looking at you between my legs,”

Hermione grinned, leaning down and placing a kiss right above where (she assumed) Pansy’s clit was, the same spot Pansy had kissed her. Her hips bucked slightly, jarring her and she looked up again.

Pansy’s mouth was open and when she met her eyes a hand came out cupping the back of her head, “commere,” she said, low and light, pulling on Hermione's head.

She went, crawling up her body, pressing their skin together, the contact more exhilarating than she’d imagined, and kissing her soundly, hard and a little sloppy and full of muttered curses escaping Pansy’s mouth.

Hermione didn’t know what to do with her knees and ended up threading them between Pansy’s, one of her thighs between her legs. Pansy seemed to sink into the length of her, her hips coming forward, however slightly, to press against her thigh. It was a moment before she realized Pansy was wet. She grinned into the kiss at that and pressed her thigh more firmly into Pansy who hummed low, “fuck Granger,” her voice muffled against her lips.

Hermione shifted, letting her hips shift to one side, propping her head up on an elbow, looking at Pansy. She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at Hermione, keeping her eyes lidded and dark. Hermione could feel her heart beating, and realized with a start that she was nervous. She wanted to fuck this gorgeous woman beneath her, wanted to make her scream and come long and hard, wanted to feel her cunt around her fingers and yet. Hermione knew perfectly well what she liked, could get herself off in ten minutes, if not five, with a well trained series of movements and a few poignant memories. But Pansy was a class on to herself, and anyway, she didn’t want five minutes of detached gung ho, she wanted to make her tremble, make her scream her name.

Pansy’s eyes were on her and Hermione realized her hand had been gently kneading her breast. She couldn’t make out the expression in her face, however, which only added to her nerves. She leaned down, kissing her in an attempt to hide them, she didn’t want to look like the trembling virgin, however much she felt like one.

Pansy returned the kiss with a slow heat, lingering lips and a deep desire. It stabilized Hermione somewhat and she drew her fingers down the length of Pansy’s body, stopping only when she felt the prickle of new hair. She could feel Pansy’s sharp intake of breath, and then her lips were on her again with a more aggressive heat, a hunger. Heartened, Hermione continued her soft exploration, dipping her hand casually between her thighs, running a soft finger tip over the mound and folds and- yes she was still very wet.

Pansy was whining into the kiss and Hermione, coming suddenly to a realization, broke away. Pansy’s head moved to follow the kiss, her lips pouted, open, a furrow between her brows as she slowly opened her eyes looking at Hermione with open pleading eyes. She just breathed, brow furrowed, eyes locked as Hermione slowly and gently cupped the whole of Pansy’s mound in her hand and pressed down.

She whined again, the lines in her forehead deepening, her mouth opening wider, neck bucking up trying to capture her mouth again…

“What do you like?” It was a whisper, and Hermione only realized a few seconds later that she was the one who had said it.

Pansy drew her chin down, still panting, then brought one hand down so it rested lightly on top of her own. “This,” she breathed and she bucked her head up again. Hermione kissed her, with a sloppy want and need, she felt like she was baring her soul to the woman and needed her to accept it. Pansy moved her hand up, placing her middle finger gently. “There,” she breathed into the kiss, “and start slow,” and her hand was gone, traveling up Hermione's arm to tangle in her hair as they deepened the kiss. She wanted to focus, to make this good, but Pansy tasted so good and she kept getting distracted, her tits were right! there!

She moved her finger back and forth slowly, her cunt was slippery and warm and she wasn’t sure exactly what she was touching. Pansy squirmed under her, eyes at half mast, not focusing on anything. Hermione leaned forward, kissing her neck, her clavicle, making Pansy draw in a sharp breath and hum low in her throat. “A little lower,” she was panting and some far distant part of Hermione's brain realized Pansy was enjoying herself. Stowing that particular pleasant thought away for later she obligingly moved her finger a little lower.

She was met with a gasp from Pansy, her hips bucked and Hermione could suddenly feel what was unmistakably a clit. She grinned into Pansy’s neck and shoulder and moved her hand a little faster. Pansy was whining again and one hand pressed into Hermione's lower back, pulling her closer. “Oh that feels good,”

Something like fire seemed to shoot through Hermione's whole being and she focused, not too fast, not too slow, keep the pace, keep the pressure- “harder” - increase the pressure but not too much, keep the pace, don’t slow down - “faster”. The raw need in Pansy’s voice made Hermione look up, her eyes alight with desire. She was on fire and exhilaration flooded her like a fucking drug. Her hand was cramping, but she barely noticed, so intent she was on doing this right.

She’d done her research, of course, read a few autostraddle articles, had humbly asked Ginny how it all happened. She knew the basics, knew the steps, but being here, watching Pansy under her squirm and buck and pant and hearing her whine and moan. It was too fucking much. She became aware that her own hips were grinding into Pansy’s thigh, rhythmic and wanting. She knew she was wet again, knew it was from this woman under her whose entire being seemed to take the breath from her very lungs.

She could feel Pansy’s skin beneath her, could feel the stretch of muscle contract and relax, feel the small ball under her finger harden and enlarge. Pansy was moaning consistently now and experimentally, Hermione pressed harder.

“Oh fuck yes!” Pansy’s head shot up, looking down at her, her brow still furrowed, mouth gaping, “oh just like that, babe, oh fuck, oh fuck yes, there, right- there.”

She was lost in Pansy’s eyes, her voice sending pools of heat to her stomach, hand moving as if to the rhythm of their heart beats, circle circle, press, circle circle. Pansy’s bottom lip was quivering and her hips were moving with Hermione's hand, circling against her. She licked her lips pointedly and between fresh moans croaked out, “fuck me, Granger,”

Never in her entire life had anything been so alluring, so sexy, so hot! She shifted slightly, bringing her hand down and hoping she was right about the angle, slide a finger into Pansy. She let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine and then her hand was on her own clit, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” profanities beyond it all escaping her mouth and Hermione pulled back and in and fuck. This is what she meant.

Pansy’s cunt was warm and wet and felt like everything she’d imagined and nothing. It was bumpy and tight and holy shit so warm and Pansy’s hand was dancing on her clit doing nothing like what Hermione has been doing seconds before but she could feel the walls closing in around her finger and so she pumped, marveling at the sound, the soft slap of flesh on flesh. Pansy was so wet and it made her fingers slippery and harder to control somehow but she fucked her, all the same, watching Pansy’s pussy in fascination. It felt like she was being initiated into some secret centuries old right, a right of Lesbian passage as if this was the only way to be accepted and anointed Gay. Or maybe it was just the right to watch your lover get off on your own hand. She didn’t really care, Pansy’s hips were bucking up and she followed them, moving in time to her hips, not knowing if she should try and find the G spot or.

“Oh my god,” the high pitched cry broke through all thinking and suddenly Pansy’s hips were in the air, her head thrown back, her thighs trembling and Hermione could feel the tightness of her cunt as if it was going to separate her finger from the world (there are worse fates) and then somewhere in the back, towards the nether regions of desire, pulsing, quick, strong, in rapid succession. The world seem suspended in time as Pansy’s pussy pulsed and Hermione had no thoughts other than for just how fucking beautiful this was, how sexy she looked. And then Pansy exhaled, her thighs still trembling, coming up to wrap around her hips, her hands fumbling at her, grabbing at her. Hermione barely had time to extract her finger before she was eveloped by Pansy, her whole body seeming to grab at her at once.

They kissed - technically - but it was probably something closer to a slobber. Hermione threaded her fingers through Pansy’s hair and drew her still trembling bottom lip into her mouth, and they kissed and they kissed and Pansy trembled in her arms, her legs wrapped around her in a hold to make any wrestler proud.

Slowly, very slowly, Pansy opened her eyes, green and sparkling they met Hermione’s and she suddenly felt so small and yet so large, so incongruously as if she’d just been cared for and done the caring. She didn’t have words for it but it must have been something like Nirvana. It had to be right? What else would explain the lightness of her chest, so light it almost hurt, as if to be free from the burden it had been carrying was a chore unto itself.

“God damn, Hermione,” Pansy’s voice was soft and low, her husk had returned.

Hermione propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at her, her chest felt warm and full, “say it again.” And she was pleased to hear her voice also came out low and soft.

“What?” She cocked her head at her, still breathing heavily.

“Say it again,”

Pansy’s brow furrowed for a seconded and then cleared. She smiled, wiggling slightly under her.

“Hermione,” she said, long, careful, deliberate, pronouncing every syllable.

Hermione grinned down at her and then they were kissing again with a soft tenderness they had yet to employ. Pansy’s hands were on the small of her back and suddenly she felt like nothing else mattered in the world. She needed all of this woman, every inch of her. She grabbed one of her breasts and rolled the nipple gently, making Pansy hum a little into her mouth. She threaded her knees on either side of one of Pansy’s thighs and moved her hips down, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin against her pussy. Her hands threading through Pansy’s hair and traveling up and down her body-

Pansy broke the kiss, hands still on the small of her back, “are you?” She cocked her head questioning, “are you turned on by the sound of your own name?” It was half a tease and half a question.

Hermione flushed then shrugged, her hips still grinding softly into Pansy’s thigh, “apparently,” she said grinning, “it just sounds so good coming out of your mouth,” she leaned down kissing her again as Pansy chucked.

“God, you’re so gay.”

“For you at least,” she mumbled into the kiss, very glad Pansy couldn’t see her face.

Pansy drew in a deep breath in which the world seemed to still again and then she was kissing her with passion and fever and their bodies seemed to merge into one as Pansy pressed her thigh into her cunt, helping her grind up up up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and feel free to follow me on tumblr: actuallyginnyweasley.tumblr.com


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